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"Charlotte?" The familiar voice sent a shiver down her spine. There he was, his eyes searching hers for a reaction. Taking another deep breath, she looked up at him, her expression composed, her heart steady.
Daniel stood before Charlotte, his appearance meticulously put together. He was dressed in a designer suit that spoke of his impeccable taste and attention to detail. The suit was a deep, charcoal gray, expertly tailored to fit his frame. The fabric had a subtle sheen to it, catching the light as he moved, and was complemented by a crisp white shirt, its top button casually undone. His shoes were polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the ambient light of the room. Daniel's attire was a clear reflection of his life in New York - sophisticated, polished, and urbane.
Despite the obvious quality of his clothing, there was something about his appearance that seemed slightly out of place in Chesham Cove. It was as if he had stepped out of a high-powered business meeting in the city and into this small coastal town. Charlotte took in his appearance, noting the familiar way he carried himself with a confident, almost calculated poise. His suit, while undeniably handsome, seemed like an armor, a carefully constructed facade that he presented to the world. It was a stark reminder of the life they had once shared and the differences that had grown between them.
"Daniel," she acknowledged, her tone even. "Please, take a seat."
As Daniel sat down across from her, Charlotte's noticed Thomas Windnell sauntering toward their table.
Just what she needed. She repressed a groan.
"Charlotte Moore," Windnell said smoothly, his gaze scrutinizing her as though she were a painting he was considering for purchase. "What an unexpected surprise to see you here."
"Thomas," she replied coolly, her jaw tightening at the unwanted intrusion. "I didn't know that you rose to the level of the clientele allowed in here. "
"Only when the occasion calls for it," he said with a sly smile. "And tonight, it seems, is quite the occasion." He cast a quick glance at Daniel before returning his focus to her. "So, how are the renovations coming along at the old inn? I've heard it's been quite the project."
"Indeed," Charlotte responded, trying to suppress her annoyance at his thinly veiled attempt to pry into her affairs. "But it's coming together nicely."
"Ah, how lovely," Thomas said, feigning interest. "Though, I must say, I'm surprised you've taken on such an endeavor. Weren't there rumors about that place being... what's the word? Condemned?"
Charlotte felt a flicker of anger ignite within her but chose to maintain her composure. "There have been a few setbacks, but nothing that can't be overcome."
"Of course," he replied, his tone patronizing. "Well, I do hope it works out for you, Charlotte. After all, a woman like you deserves a little piece of paradise."
Thomas's gaze drifted to Daniel, a hint of curiosity mixed with his usual arrogance. "And who might this be?" he asked, his tone implying more than a simple inquiry.
Daniel, who had been quietly observing the exchange, straightened slightly in his chair. He extended his hand towards Thomas with a polite but firm gesture. "Daniel Moore," he introduced himself. "Charlotte's husband."
Thomas's eyebrows raised slightly, a flash of surprise crossing his features before he regained his composure. He took Daniel's hand, the handshake brief and perfunctory. "Ah, I see," he said, his voice betraying a hint of newfound respect - or was it caution? "Well, Mr. Moore, it's a pleasure. Thomas Windnell. Owner of The Bluffs.”
Charlotte watched the interaction, a mix of emotions swirling within her. Daniel's presence, his introduction as her husband, seemed to change the dynamics of the conversation, adding a layer of complexity to the already tense encounter with Thomas Windnell. She remained silent, her gaze shifting between the two men, aware of the undercurrents of power and rivalry that flowed beneath the surface of their polite conversation.
“Enjoy your meal,” Thomas said, and he raised his glass to her before slowly backing away, leaving her with a lingering sense of unease. As Thomas retreated to the bar, Charlotte's thoughts churned like the turbulent waters of Chesham Cove. She knew his intentions were far from genuine. She turned her attention back to Daniel.
“He seems nice,” Daniel said.
"Stop it," she said, shaking her head slightly. "You're here for one reason, and it's not to impress anyone. Or be impressed."
“Well, that’s too bad because you look... incredible."
"Thank you," she replied, nodding at him. Her eyes wandered to the way his fingers drummed absentmindedly on the tablecloth, a habit she used to find endearing. She mentally chastised herself for such thoughts, reminding herself that she was there to secure her independence and nothing more.
"Charlotte?" Daniel's voice interrupted her internal battle. "Did you hear what I said?"
"Sorry," she stammered, forcing her focus back onto the present. "I got lost in thought for a moment."
"Right," he replied with a hint of annoyance. It was a familiar tone, one born from years of misunderstandings and miscommunications.
The urge to snap back at him bubbled inside her, but she swallowed it down, determined not to be provoked. The atmosphere was charged with tension and uncertainty - a far cry from the comfortable familiarity of their past dinners together.
The ambiance of the restaurant was carefully curated to evoke an air of sophistication and romance. Dim lighting cast soft, golden shadows across the room, and soft music played unobtrusively in the background. A fragrant bouquet of roses stood proudly in the center of the table, their deep red petals a stunning contrast to the immaculate linens. The walls were adorned with tasteful artwork, each piece chosen to enhance the elegance of the surroundings. Everywhere Charlotte looked, it was clear that no expense had been spared in creating this luxurious haven.
And yet, despite the enchanting setting, Charlotte couldn't shake the feeling of disquiet that clung to her like a persistent fog. She stared at Daniel across the table, his handsome features illuminated by the flickering candlelight. His eyes darted away from hers, betraying his own uncertainty. This dinner was supposed to be a chance for them to discuss the final details of their divorce, but the weight of everything left unsaid hung heavy in the air between them.
"Let’s order," Daniel finally murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft strains of music.
"Of course," she replied, attempting a smile that felt more like a grimace. She reached for her water glass, the cool condensation soothing against her clammy fingers.
